Stuyvesant: The Cat Cafe

The sound of falling rain resounds from outside the classroom window as your math teacher drones on and on about tangent angle chords (or something like that). You are close to nodding off when the peaceful pattering suddenly transitions to hollow thumps and strange yowls. The entire class rushes to the window to see what is causing this commotion, including you. Struggling to see over your much taller classmates, you finally catch a glimpse of the outside world and almost can’t believe your eyes. It’s raining cats and dogs—literally!

Or rather, just cats; the furry felines are landing outside everywhere, though miraculously, none are hurt. The streets start to fill with them, and the few cars that were out in this crazy weather are trapped. You can see your science teacher (Mr. Dirt) pulling cats out of a car engine as he shouts, “Oh, not again!” and your best friend (who has a free this period) frantically shoving cats out of the way with her umbrella as she races to get back to the bridge entrance, halal in hand. The students are astounded.

“What in the 11th-floor pool?!” one shouts. Another cries, “This is hella sus!” and is met with a chorus of groans. The outside window ledge is filling fast too, and the adorable furballs start scratching frantically at the glass. You use the last bit of strength from your sleep-deprived muscles to shove past the students and slide open the window. The cats rush in and suddenly, the entire classroom floor seems to be a sea of cats. They’re everywhere! On the desks, on top of the smartboard, and even streaming into the hallway. Your math teacher starts demanding to know who pushed the window open, but before anyone can rat you out, the wave of cats pushes you onto their backs and carries you out into the hallway.

A black cat with white paws and a bow tie jumps in front of you holding a piece of paper, and starts speaking in a crisp British accent:

“May I take your meowder?”

“Uhhh, what? The heck is that supposed to mean?” you stutter. The cat hands you the piece of paper. “Coffee, tea, cake-pop…hey this is a menu!”

“Meowviously! I thought Stuyvesant kits were smart!” You give the cat a menacing glare for a second and then survey your surroundings. The entirety of Stuyvesant has been converted into a giant cat cafe! The hoards of cats are carrying exhausted students and depositing them in comfy cafe chairs next to cute cafe tables. Perhaps they had been brought upstairs from the extensive hoard of equipment that the dragon in the basement is supposed to protect (at least, that’s what the rumors say). “Okay, can I have a matcha latte with extra whip then?” you finally decide as the wave of cats brings you to one of the chairs.

“No meowblem!”

Meanwhile, Dean Wazowzki angrily tries to snatch his phone from a few cats who are playfully tossing it around, though apparently he is allergic to cats. The sneezes interspersed into his sentences make them sound much less threatening than they were probably meant to be.

“What is *ACHOO* happening here?! I DEMAND YOU GIVE ME MY *ACHOO ACHOO* PHONE BACK SO I CAN CALL THE POLICE! *ACHOO sniff* You’re wasting valuable class time *ACHOO* that could have been used to torture students!”

You shake your head as you see similar behavior from several other teachers and students. Why must they question this wonderful blessing that has saved them from the torturous math lesson? One teacher is even lecturing the cats on art or something because they gave him lukewarm coffee. Jeez, how do these cats deal with all this backlash? Your matcha latte (with extra whip) arrives, though for some reason it is garnished with a fish. Whatever. There is no bill for the drink (unlike in some other coffee joints around here). You lift it up and prepare to take a sip, inhaling the heavenly aroma, but suddenly Dean Wazowski’s phone bounces up from the sea of cats and bumps into the drink, causing it to splash all over your face.

Suddenly, you’re back in the math classroom, soaking wet, as the kid next to you repeatedly apologizes for spilling his scorching coffee on you. You lick your desk and shake your head, disappointed that the coffee does not taste like fish. You look outside only to find that there is a regular raging rainstorm. “Was it all just a dream?” you wonder sadly. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse a cat outside the window. A black cat with white paws and a bow tie. Your jaw drops as you turn to face them, and you catch them wink before they leap off the window ledge and disappear into the storm.